


i swear i'll make you see (that you're perfect to me)

by bilestilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive!Erica, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Panic Attacks, alive!Boyd, and i may have seen sth like that in a spanish romcom, anyway, post its are my fave thing, ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:05:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilestilinski/pseuds/bilestilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is insecure. Jackson's a dork. And post its are involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i swear i'll make you see (that you're perfect to me)

**Author's Note:**

> This was prompted by an anon, and I just...it went overboard, I am sorry.   
> My friend kinda proof read it, but still any mistakes are my own. Enjoy bbs!

Stiles sees Jackson and Lydia at the end of the hall, just when he’s coming out of Chemistry with his books in his hands. Jackson’s hand is hanging low on Lydia’s waist while his fingers spread across her ass, making him look like a possessive boyfriend, the way he’s snarling at another one of the lacrosse players.

And it shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

And Stiles....

Well, Stiles doesn’t know what to do.

Although he desperately wishes to flee, he finds himself helplessly frozen on the spot, the mass of students merely passing by as he feels the panic building up in his guts.

He sees Jackson turning towards his ex-girlfriend, or girlfriend, Stiles doesn’t even know what to call them anymore and kisses her, and it seems as if they’re three years back in time, when Stiles was pathetically in love with Jackson, it seems as if they’re back to **_before_** the werewolf business and...and...

Stiles’ heart is racing; it’s pounding against his rib cage, his chest almost feeling like it’s constricting, he frantically tries to catch his breath, but he feels lightheaded, faint, weak on his knees.

He flails with his arms, making his books fall onto the ground, but not caring about it in the least as he tries to lean on the wall and walk a few steps, searching for a door, Scott or anyone that could help him right now.

He wants to **_get out, get out, get out_** of there.

But the dizziness from the lack of oxygen is already kicking in, the people around him blurry figures as they pass him, making it much more difficult for him to see where he’s going. 

He tries not to think about how the only thing that has had him barely holding as the darkness had involved him after the ritual to save his dad, is a few feet away with someone else, someone better, _because Stiles was never worth it_ , his brain supplies, _because no matter what Stiles did, he could never be good enough. Because random hook ups don’t mean anything to Jackson Whittemore, because Lydia is a goddess, because Stiles **will never measure up.**_

His muscles are screaming at him to stop moving, to stop every little action he was about to do, because there wasn’t any air left in his lungs, his body hadn’t got enough energy left anymore and he felt ready to collapse any second now. 

“Stiles!”

Stiles closes his eyes tightly, someone is repeating his name over and over again, but he can’t hear it, head too full with his own thoughts, his own self doubt.

He knows he is on the edge of passing out, his lungs burning because he just can’t get any air into them, can’t even try to find a reason why he would even do that, why he would even try to survive, if nobody would ever think that _he was worth it._

Not even Scott thinks he’s worth it, Stiles’ knows, his own best friend doesn’t want him; he prefers to be lost in Allison’s beauty or Isaac’s eyes, or so it seemed.

“Stiles, fucking breathe!”

He notices for a moment, that he’s moving; his heart kicks up a notch as he doesn’t know where he’s being dragged to, the organ races even more as his feet give up under the pressure of staying upright-,

“Lydia, fuck, get help!”

and that’s just it; he knows what’s coming next.

Stiles passes out.

***

At first, he doesn’t know where he is, or how he ended up more than a few steps away from the chemistry room, but then he remembers the panic attack, remembers the reason to why it happened and he curses himself for letting the darkness take him over.

That doesn’t mean that he can’t still feel the panic in the back of his head, because right now his brain is too worried by the head ache he’s had since he woke up, so the panic is just a low thrum in his head, streaming “what if” sentences, _what if Scott hadn’t been bitten? What if he had never hooked up with Jackson? What if he had never saved his father? **What if he would never wake up again?**_

Suddenly he can hear the fast footfall of someone that’s apparently pacing in front of him, probably Scott; or at least he hopes it is Scott.

He lets out a quiet groan as he tries to open his eyes, although his body is too tired from the energy the panic attack consumed; the only thing that he wants right now is to sleep forever, to be honest.

“Stiles?”

Definitely not Scott.

“Yep, the one and only,” his voice sounds raw, and he cringes because even speaking hurts.

Stiles feels a hand settling on his jaw, the thumb making soothing strokes on his cheek as the other person breathes against his lips, slowly and surely, Stiles’ own breath matching the one from the person.

He sluggishly opens his eyes and sees Jackson looking at him; he can’t help but flinch away from the touch.

“Jackson...”

“You scared the crap out of me, butthead,” Jackson doesn’t seem taken aback by Stiles’ gesture, though he seems worried and maybe just a little like he is losing his mind.

Stiles wants to say that he’s sorry for worrying him, for making Jackson look like he actually is bothered by what happens with Stiles, when he doesn’t want to show feelings in public “because Stiles, I can’t lose my reputation, it’s the only thing that keeps me alive at school”, but he can’t get himself to really care, he’s too tired for this shit. And he knows Jackson is too.

He puts his hand back on Stiles’ cheek, a soft look taking over his face. Jackson’s chapped lips brush against his, almost sweetly, he thinks, maybe he should have panic attacks more often. “What the fuck happened?”

“Doesn’t matter...” Stiles knows he must look like hell by the way Jackson’s eyes soften even more.

“Bullshit, it fucking matters, Stiles,” Jackson hisses, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to argue, he sounds just vulnerable, broken. “You passed out because you were **_having a panic attack_** , I had to drag your ass over here, because you couldn’t **_fucking_** walk!”

“It seems as if you’re worried,” Stiles laughed quietly, sucking in a breath, because it seems as if it’s hard to get air in his lungs again. “Watch out, maybe someone is eavesdropping, we don’t want anyone to know that Jackson Whittemore cares about Stiles Stilinski!”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, he definitely shouldn’t have, but his brain isn’t working properly; truth be told, he in fact  doesn’t understand his own thoughts at the moment, so he could perhaps blame it on that later on, on being emotionally exhausted.

“Stiles...” the werewolf sighed.

“What, Jackson? What do you expect from me?” Stiles closes his eyes tightly, breathing in and out, he doesn’t want a repeat from before. “Shit, man, we’ve been hooking up for **_months,_** and the best thing you can think of is to kiss Lydia? Well, congrats, you got the beautiful goddess you deserve.”

All of a sudden Stiles and Jackson hear a door being opened and closed; Jackson stands up and cocks his head to the side like a dog, probably in order to hear what the people that entered are saying.

Finally Stiles’ brain catches up with what is happening around him and recognizes now that they’re in the boys’ locker room, Lydia Martin and Ms. Morrell sauntering into the room.

“Mr. Stilinski, everything alright?” he hates the way Ms. Morell sounds so monotone, it makes him feel trapped.

“Yes, I’d like to go home though,” Stiles rasps out as the school counsellor helps him up. “And it’d be great if you could keep this to yourself, and not tell my dad about it, he’s got enough on his plate.”

Standing up takes a huge amount of effort on Stiles’ part, the moment he’s on his feet he wants to sit down again and go to a never ending sleep, but he knows it’s not possible and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself further in front of Jackson, so he sucks it up and walks out of the locker room.

***

 “Jackson, tell me right now what the hell is going on with you and Stilinski?”

Jackson whimpers and looks up, he knows Lydia must have already known about this thing between Stiles and him, maybe she knew before them that they’d end up hooking up with each other, she’s Lydia Martin for fuck’s sake, she has a sixth sense for things like that, even without the part where she’s a banshee.

“We might or might not have been ‘hooking up’, more like dating each other for a few months?” he admits, his eyes closing tightly.

“And you think pretending to date me would help, **_how?_** ” she asks.

Jackson hates her at the moment, because he knows it wasn’t his smartest idea to pretend to date Lydia, but...but he needs that, he needs to feel like he at least is powerful in the hell that is high school.

“I don’t know, to be honest.”

“I’m going to tell you something now, Jackson, I knew you weren’t the sensitive kind of type, but I thought that you at least had a bit of brain for how relationships are supposed to roll, but apparently not,” she’s pointing at him with her index finger, her other hand resting on her hip, she reminds him of his mother for a brief moment. “Let’s be honest here, Stiles Stilinski has never really been popular and his self esteem? None existent.”

He winces, because he knows it’s true.

“He’s been pushed around, laughed at and he probably popped the cherry with you, he doesn’t know anything about hook ups and/or dating, he’s clingy and clever and will love his girlfriend/boyfriend to the extent where he will give up his life for them, he’s just that loyal little shit,” Lydia sounds fond, and kind of exasperated, like she knows what she’s talking about, and she probably does. “And he loves you, and you keep him a secret because your fucking reputation is oh “so important” to you, but you know what? He’s fucking hurt, and the only reason he’s staying with you and not dumping your sorry ass is that you mean more to him than anything else, so get your damn shit together and show him he’s important to you.”

“I...I don’t...Thanks,” he scratches the back of his neck, he knows she’s right, she always is, but he still doesn’t know what to do, he loves Stiles, no matter what he tries to tell himself, he does and there’s no way around it, but he isn’t good at **_love._**

“I’ll send you the bill, being Stilinski’s best friend is exhausting,” she smirks. “McCall is the next one on my list.”

Jackson lets out a snort, “As if McCall even knew what he’s been doing wrong, Stiles looks like an abandoned puppy whenever he sees him with Allison.”

“Loyal little shit, like I said.”

Jackson laughs.

***

Stiles shuffles to his bed and sighs, he cannot help but just fall down onto it, his head smashes into his pillow comfortably.

He thinks that’s what heaven really is, just a place he’s comfortable in, therefore his bed.

Though that makes him think of his mom, she had always said that “ _Stiles, remember, heaven is not up in the clouds like everyone says, heaven is wherever your heart feels safe, never forget that, sweetheart.”_

Stiles misses her, so damn much.

***

The next time Stiles wakes up, it is to a post-it stuck to his forehead, and the noise of his window being closed, he tries to sit up quick enough to see who **_the fuck dares to wake him up_** , but he doesn’t find anything, so he just takes the post-it from his head and reads it.

_You’re a dork, but you’re my dork; you’ll find the next post it in your kitchen_

Stiles breathes gets stuck in his throat, he knows that hand writing, its Jackson’s.

He mutters to himself as he puts on his fluffy socks for when he’s feeling like shit; walks out of his room and down the stairs.

When he arrives in his kitchen it is to find fresh curly fries on the table and a post it stuck on them.

“Bribing me with food won’t help you,” he says out loud, sure that the werewolf was somewhere nearby.

It might not help Jackson, but curly fries are Stiles’ weakness and he wouldn’t waste free food for anything in the world.

 He stuffs a hand full of them in his mouth and reads the post it, multitasking for the win.

_I may not show it, but you’re important to me_ _à_ _front door_

“You’re being sappy, Jackson,” he says, but it sounds more like a “re beigr sppy, Jckon,” because of the curly fries that are currently occupying his mouth.

But although he is angry at Jackson, because the guy’s an asshole and he doesn’t deserve Stiles’ and his loyalties to ex-bullies (and secret boyfriends, ups), he keeps going, grumbling his way through the living room, while eating some more curly fries.

When he sees the post it, it’s not yellow like the other ones, its green.

“How many times did you write these sappy sentences before deciding that they were good enough?” Stiles asks; he knows Jackson can hear him, and the werewolf is probably grinning as well.

  _Kissing Lydia was stupid, and immature, and I am sorry if it made you doubt yourself._ _à_ _Garage door_

Stiles groans, putting on his shoes and throwing on his jacket, stupid Jackson making him move all over the house and **_even outside._** The asshole was probably making it on purpose.

He takes his keys, opens the door, steps out to the cool January air and closed it behind himself, looking around at first to see if Jackson was anywhere nearby, but as expected he wasn’t.

He rubs his hands against each other, warming them up a bit, and scurries over to the garage door, where the next green post it is waiting.

_YOU ARE PERFECT TO ME, BUTTFACE_ _à_ _Jeep window_

“Oh, now you’re insulting me, that’s nice,” Stiles bites back his grin, as he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

He fishes the thing out of his trouser’s back pocket and unlocks it, seeing he has three missed phone calls from Scott and one new message from Jackson. He opens the new text to see;

**From: McDreamy**

**_Shut up and keep walking, sweetheart._ **

“Aw, pet names, that is so much better, _babycakes._ ” Stiles giggles, he knows Jackson hates pet names, almost more than coach hates losing, but it never ceased to make Stiles laugh uncontrollably at Jackson’s snarls.

He turns around to see that on the Jeep’s window is a post it stuck now, so Jackson is playing with his supernatural speed, huh?

Stiles walks over to it, carefully not to fall down, as the pavement is still a bit slippery from the snow that had fallen upon them a few days ago (the first time it had snowed in Beacon Hills since Barack Obama had become president, woah!).

He finds a gum package bound to the post it,

_I am literally **stuck on** you _ _à_ _rear view mirror_

“No matter how much I love badly made puns, this one takes the cake,” Stiles snorted, and if he feels a little bit happier at that moment, no one had to know. “Am I supposed to drive now, Jackson? How is this any fun?”

Nevertheless, he opens the door to his Jeep (thanks God, he took the keys with him) and sits down, seeing the pink post it stuck there, with a cute little red bow on it.

Stiles opens up the bow, and takes the post it carefully out of it, so it would not be damaged.

_I’ve always got my eyes on you, no matter what._

_(Also, drive save, you’re a precious cargo)_ _à_ _the swing set_

Stiles smiles slightly; he naturally remembers the day of the swing set.

***

_It was summer, three days after their junior year ended, it was a hot day outside, not that hot that’d he’d die if he got out of his house but hot enough that he could run around with shorts and a simple t-shirt (if Stiles would have had more layers on than necessary, he maybe would’ve died, but thankfully he didn’t) and the pack had decided, that after all the shit they had gone through, they at least deserved to be a little childish._

_So they went down to the park during the night, with three bottles of Jack Daniels, two spiked with wolfsbane, and four six-packs (beer, Stiles’ favourite, yum)._

_They started the night out drinking in the sandpit, pleasantly talking about trivial things, like school and college and what they’d do once they were finally in college, what they wanted to study._

_Though when they all were pleasantly buzzed, everyone except Erica, Boyd and Isaac settled somewhere else._

_Lydia had brought “to kill a Mockingbird” with her, as well as a lamp so she could read and had settled down on the park bench (because apparently, her brain cells were immune to alcohol and she could still read), Jackson had settled next to her, preferring to just kill time by playing with his phone._

_Scott and Allison were climbing the Jungle Gym meanwhile Erica and Boyd were curled up in the sandpit, while Isaac was building a ridiculously exact copy of the rebuilt Hale House._

_Stiles had decided that the swing sets were his territory the exact moment they had separated and was swinging watching his pack mates with a fond smile on his face._

_Stiles had swung until his arms were sore and his feet hurting, then he just stopped, sitting on the swing watching his surroundings, hearing the silent chatter of Scott and Allison to his right, snorting at Derek’s minions as they slept in the sandbox._

_Suddenly, he was snapped out of it by someone pushing him from behind slightly, him and the swing going forward and immediately swinging back, to be pushed again, a little bit harder, making him go higher._

_Stiles turned his head around to see Jackson, with a small smile on his face, as he pushed Stiles once more, making the human laugh loudly._

_“You having fun, Stilinski?”_

_“You know I have a first name, too, right?”_

_“Yeah, but I don’t know it.”_

_“It’s Stiles.”_

_“Of course it is.”_

_“It was legally changed a few years back, you know, my mother did it.”_

_“Hm, well then, Stiles.”_

_Jackson stopped pushing the swing, letting it go back and forth, always getting slower, until it fully called it quits and didn’t move anymore, making Stiles face Jackson._

_Jackson leant down and pressed his lips briefly on Stiles’, and Stiles blamed the alcohol that he didn’t respond right away, although when he did, it was to Jackson opening his mouth, letting Stiles tilt his head to deepen the kiss._

***

Sure, Stiles admits, after that it took them another month to get their shit together, but he knows that’s when they truly began to secretly date, and that place was somehow always there, like when Jackson had punched a guy because he had insulted Stiles of being a “man whore” and had blamed it later on the guy telling everyone that he had STDs, when it was not true and afterwards they had made out there, carefully hidden between the kids running around. Or many other times Stiles remembers, it’s a special place for them.

All of a sudden his phone vibrates in his pocket, making him snap out of it, he sees he has a new text message, obviously from Jackson.

**From: McDreamy**

**You’re coming, right?**

Stiles makes a weird noise that’s between a laugh and a snort, as he replies.

**To: McDreamy**

**Of fucking course, wouldn’t miss you making an ass out of yourself. X**

He started the engine of the Jeep and drove down his drive way, his hand moved to turn on the radio on, and if the radio station that came on was Jackson’s favourite, no one had to know.

***

When Stiles arrives at the park (the only one in Beacon Hills), it’s full of live, the usual kids playing around, he in fact also sees his neighbour Charlie with his mother by the sandpit, building a castle.

The only thing that’s different, is that the swings are free, the only one that’s occupying it, is a fucking big brown teddy bear with a post it stuck on its light brown tummy.

He knows he’s smiling fondly at it, while he walks to the swings; he always has that smile when anything concerns Jackson and he is allowed to show it.

He touches the teddy, feeling its soft fur underneath his fingertips before he takes the post it and reads it.

_I am sorry and I love you._

Stiles blinks. Once, twice, three times before he really gets what the meaning of the post it means, a lazy smile makes its way upon his face.

He takes out his phone, unlocks it and types a message, while his left hand is still on the teddy’s tummy.

**To: McDreamy**

**Come out from wherever you are, you creep.**

He hears a laugh behind him.

Jackson.

When Stiles turns around, it is to find Jackson with a bouquet of flowers in his hands, the specific flowers that Jackson got? Red roses, white calla lilies and frangipanis; they looked kind of beautiful.

“You being romantic is something new, huh,” Stiles breathes out.

 “Well, I am new to this,” Jackson smirks, stalking over to Stiles, making Stiles’ breathe catch in his throat, but not from panic, just from seeing Jackson dress in fancy dress pants, a white button up and a charcoal west.

“Aren’t you dressed too nicely for a park?” Stiles blurts out, he doesn’t know what to expect, but surely not Jackson laughing, like, he’s laughing at something Stiles said in front of other people, **_who could see them and tell other people_** (insert Stiles’ sarcasm here).

“Maybe, I don’t really care,” Jackson answers, handing Stiles the flowers as if this wasn’t a big deal, at all. “You know that I meant everything that I wrote on those post its right?”

“Do you think I’d be here if I didn’t?” Stiles shots back, taking in the sight of the flowers, the scent reaching even his human nose.

They smell like his mom’s perfume.

“Hm, touché.”

“Jackson?” He hears the werewolf hum in response as he silently leans closer to Stiles, lips almost brushing the human’s.  “I love you, too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [here](http://flowerderek.tumblr.com) if you have a prompt. It can be about anything, you guys, though it has to involve teen wolf. :)


End file.
